


echoes

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [56]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:18:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7462983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine what happened right after Claire travels back through the stones in 02x13…</p>
            </blockquote>





	echoes

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/147192022621/echoes) on tumblr

She was gone.

He could still feel the warmth of her in his hands - on his chest. From just seconds before, when he’d pressed her hands to the tall stone - and sent her away.

She was gone.

There was no life without her.

No evidence she’d even existed - save the imprisoned dragonfly weighing down his pocket.

Powerless to move - powerless to change things.

Just as he had been. Just as *they* had been.

The cannons boomed in the distance, echoing off the tall stone.

His home was gone - destroyed.

So only one choice now - to go meet his destiny on the moor.

He prayed it would be a quick end to his body - a cannonball to the chest, like Angus. Or a saber slash to the neck, like Rupert.

Purgatory afterwards, for sure. For as long as it took to atone for his sins.

But Claire - no, she would go straight to heaven. Would she be there, waiting for him, when he finally arrived?

Would he see his Mam again? Introduce them - the two women who had never met, but who were so similar - and who both meant more to him than his own miserable life?

Would he see wee Faith, there among the angels?

Would she recognize him - the father she had never seen?

Another cannon blast.

And then - seized with rage - he ran at the tall stone. Smashed it with his fists. Watched the rag Claire had wrapped around his hand flutter away like a bloody, broken dove.

Pain he could feel. Pain grounded him in the here and now - he who was already dead, in all ways that mattered. Mind shut down to only the most basic functioning. Heart beating, yet cold and black and dead in his chest.

Blood and bruises bloomed on his knuckles as he sank to his knees, screaming at the stone.

The language didn’t matter - English, Gaidhlig, French. It was the language of loss. Of grief.

Was she still here, in the circle of standing stones, right now - 200 years in the future?

He prayed she was.

He prayed she wasn’t.

“Jamie?”

Was the stone speaking to him?

“Jamie? I’m here.”

He turned, incredulous. Claire’s voice. Was his mind so far gone with grief, then?

“No. No you’re *not* here, Claire. *I’m* here. Alone.”

The voice in his ears was rough - broken - lost.

Christ, it was *his* voice.

“It’s all right, Jamie. Hush.”

His vision blurred - the tears he couldn’t show her.

“Claire,” he rasped. “*Mo Sorcha. Mo graidh.*”

He blinked - and plunged into darkness.

Only to focus on a single flame - a candle. Illuminating the bedside table he had hewn himself - and Claire’s face, frowning with worry.

“Jamie?”

Her warm hands gently caressed his temple, his nose, his chin - tucking loose strands of hair behind his ears.

“Claire?”

His chest heaved with feeling.

“I’m here. You were locked pretty tight in that dream.”

He flexed his toes experimentally - watching Rachel’s quilt rise at the foot of the bed as his body cooperated.

“I - ”

Slowly he rose, eyes still focused on Claire’s beautiful face. Lined with years - hair streaked gray with age.

But she was here - restored to him. And still so beautiful that his heart stuttered.

He leaned against the headboard, and opened his arms.

She understood, and settled against him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

It could have been minutes or hours that they held each other as he inhaled the scent of her hair, watching the candle - from Jenny’s latest batch - burn itself away.

“Did I ever tell you what happened right after ye went back through the stones?”

She shook her head.

He shifted, and she leaned back to face him - lifting one hand to gently trace the dark circles under his eyes.

“It’s all right. You don’t need to tell me.”

“But I *want* to, Claire. I must. Ye must know.”

Her fingers pressed his lips shut. “We don’t need to go back there. All that matters is that Brianna is safe - and we’re here, tonight, together.”

He kissed her fingers. Tears sprung, unbidden, to his eyes. He moved to wipe them away - but she stopped him.

“I know you were crying - that day. I could hear it in your voice.”

He nodded, and breathed through his mouth - barely suppressing a sob.

“You can share your tears with me now, Jamie. You can give me that burden.”

In the candlelight, two tears shone on his cheeks.

“And then when we’re done mourning the past - we will celebrate the future. For I’d always make the same choice - because it led me back to you, didn’t it?”

He sniffed - and then sank his head into her shoulder, body wracked with sobs, clutching her so tight he was afraid he would break her.

“Lord, you’ve given me a rare man,” she whispered. “And God! How I love him well.”


End file.
